A Doctor Who General/Humour Fanfic
A quick look into Eleven's lack of attention span.
Rated K because I kept it nice.
Disclaimer: Eleven belongs to MOFFAT and Matt Smith.
A/N: Enjoyed the new episode a lot – thought I'd put this up for you to enjoy. The first rationalisation I've had to do for Eleven.
All of a sudden, things didn't matter to him.
Food? Well, the steps he'd taken to get to fish custard clearly proved that anything he liked would not be anything one of the natives liked. Probably. Unless there were some native aliens, in which case he'd have to excuse himself and say native species, but then that was really just too much clarifying and did he need to spend so much time on food when he'd realised what he liked already?
But things, things were useless. Maybe it was because his regeneration had destroyed his ship, maybe it was because the swimming pool had ended up in the library (and he hadn't mentioned it to little Amelia, because she hadn't asked, but he'd been joined in the swimming pool by a three-legged horse and a stuffed cat – he recognised the horse from the TARDIS stable, but the stuffed cat? Maybe that had belonged to one of his companions... or maybe it was the TARDIS's...), maybe it was because he'd regenerated and he was someone totally and utterly new and different and... funny... but he thought things were more or less useless, and with his newly shortened attention span, if someone wasn't going to be useful to him in the next three seconds (or it wasn't part of his big plan), he threw it over his shoulder and didn't look back.
Because if he looked back, he might really look back, and see all the people he'd left behind and all the places he'd touched, and everything that wasn't quite the same anymore because he'd interfered the slightest bit, and every event that he'd meddled with more than just the slightest bit.
So he grinned, tossed the useless things over his shoulder, grabbed the hand of Amelia Pond, and ran her from one fairy-tale adventure to the next.